Little Bird
by InsaneAuthor44
Summary: Birdy is mothering by nature. She has to look the other way when her brothers fight, but when she's been chosen as a tribute for the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games, she doesn't exactly have that option. While Birdy is trying to survive- and help others as well- another contestant, one much more brutal, can't seem to keep his mind off this little bird. T for Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

Long black hair, tied back to keep curls from bright green eyes. Small, pale hands write slowly along the page, longhand cursive beautiful to read. A crack is heard as a graceful neck is popped, and a small sigh emits from thin lips. Life is in a sharp perspective, for me, as always. I put my pen down quietly, before standing, smoothing the wrinkles in my black skirt. Reaping day is usually a day off of work, but it had to be done. Now that the paperwork is filled, the new shipment of lumber can leave the district tomorrow. Locking the office door behind me, I give a glance to the sky above, and smile slightly. 'In a few hours, I won't have to worry again until next year,' I think wistfully, before repressing the thought.

"Birdy!" A shout calls, and I turn, only to be ambushed by a mass of red curls. Then, brunette. And finally blonde wavy locks push me all the way to the pavement. I ignore the pounding in my head and smile at the giggling children.

"Well, now, that wasn't nice!" I exclaim, moving my hands in an extreme gesture. The girls just laugh harder as I push them to the side and stand. I help up each girl, before a realization hits me; a head is missing. "Girls, where is Mekina?" The fourth of the friends is not present, which is unheard of.

The blonde frowns. "I don't know. She was upset earlier, right, Rosie?"

Rosie, brunette curls flopping as she shakes her head, answers, "She's upset about reaping. She turned twelve last month."

Silence rings for a moment. I have to keep myself in check; this would be the first year any of these girls could be put into the Games. 'There's really no odds, though,' my brain reminds me, and I put on a smile. "Well, let's go cheer her up, shall we, ladies?" This is met enthusiastically, and Amber, the red head, leads the way to the house where she and Mekina reside.

Passing through the house, Amber leads her friends down a small hall and stops outside a pink door. "Mennie! Lighi and Rosie and Birdy are here to see you!" The six year old continues to pound on the door, until a tall, tan girl with red straight hair peeks out the door. She is still in pajamas, and looks like she has been crying. I frown, not really liking how upset the young girl seems.

"Mekina? What's wrong?" I ask as the other three girls back away slowly. They know better than to get in the way of an upset Mekina. The red head opens her door a bit more, and childishly holds up her arms for a hug. Seeing as this twelve year old is six inches taller than me, I have to reach up to give her a squeeze. Mekina begins to sob, her whole body shaking as the girl rocks in my embrace.

"I don't want to die!" She calls into my hair. "I can't go into the Games! I'll die! And Braisdon will never know I like him!" She goes on like this for a while, and I stroke the red mass, comforting her slowly but surely. After a bit, Mekina is somewhat tame, still sputtering but rational.

"Look, sweetie, this is your first reaping. Everyone gets scared."

"Even you?" Wide brown eyes met her green.

"Even me. But think of it in a way you understand. Mathematically?" Mekina brightens at this, as she is the top of her class in math. Whenever someone wants her attention, they just mention it. "You have your name in the pool once. If there are two thousand girls between the ages of twelve and eighteen, what are your chances of getting your name pulled?"

The girl pouts. "I would need exact ages, because it's multiplied, right? And what about tessera? There's too many variables, Birdy." She crosses her arms in irritation.

"And all those variables make your chances even slimmer, don't they?" The girl considers this. "Look, darling, I doubt you'll be pulled. And if you are, we'll deal with that when it comes. What if this is your last free day? Do you want to spend it moping?"

She contemplates. "No."

"Good. Now, get dressed and go play with the girls before the ceremony begins." Mekina cracks a smile, and begins to pick out a suitable outfit.

With a hop in my step, I head down the lane to the main plaza, taking in the new appearance. Usually run by happy children and merchants selling to towns people, the square is fairly empty. On the small stage are a few ant-like capitols, getting ready for the reaping later in the day. Mendall Hulperch is standing dead center, mumbling gibberish into the microphone, presumably for a 'mic check'. I smile politely to anyone who meets my eye, and make my way into the bakery.

The teen behind the counter is covered in flour, making me laugh. I can't help it, seeing the bulky guy completely cloaked. The boy pouts.

"Hey, don't laugh at what you don't understand," the blonde glowers, picking up a rag and starting to wipe the white off his tanned face.

"And what do I not understand, Braisdon?" I chuckle, dropping my eyes to take in the nice looking rolls on display.

"The fact that I was making those rolls you're eyeballing, and wanted to get a few out warm for you, so when I opened the bag funny and got this all over me," he gestures to his half-cleaned face, "I ignored the need to take a shower. All for you. I'm deeply insulted that you're still laughing, Birdy!"

I am indeed still laughing, but I take the rag and finish the job to reveal a handsome nineteen year old man with blue eyes and blond floppy hair. "I heard something interesting today, about you."

Braisdon lights up at this, forgetting the flour incident. "Yeah?"

"It seems little Mekina has a soft spot for you," I answer, throwing the rag into a trash can I knows sits beside the register.

The boy grins. "The little munchkin think's I'm hot, huh?"

"That little girl doesn't know what hot is yet. But, I have to say, her taste in men is horrible."

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself, dummy. Why is your shirt all white?" Another voice asks, and I turn to see a friend walk in, her brunette hair swishing as she walks. Braisdon immediately stands up a bit straighter, wanting to look good for his girlfriend.

"Ask Birdy. It's her fault." He kisses her cheek.

"How in hell is that my fault?"

"I was making the rolls for you."

The girl with brunette hair gives him a mock glare. "I don't get any rolls?"

Braisdon rolls his eyes. "Duh. But I remembered that I owe her for patching me up after I burned my hand." He held up his left, covered in bandages. "So I wanted them to be warm and down when she got here."

The girl seems satisfied with this, and just ruffles his hair. "So, what are you wearing to the reaping, Bird?" She asks.

"Hanniad, always the fashionista. I swear, you were born in the capitol." Braisdon rolls his eyes and leaves us girls in peace, disappearing into the kitchen. Hanniad just gives me a look.

"This?" I question, poking at my blouse and skirt combo.

"No. Wear the lilac button-up and the leather leggings that I gave you a few years ago."

I grin. "Yes ma'am." I have to giggle at the evil glare Hanniad gives me, but is spared a clothing lecture when Braisdon comes back with bag and a picnic basket.

"Here's your damned rolls, Birdy. Now, get out. I'm spending the day with my beautiful, awesome, amazing girlfriend." He bats his lashes at the girl in question.

"But you still won't get laid."

Braisdon groans. "Fine. We'll just have a nice, romantic day. With no sex."

We just laugh.

Bidding my friends goodbye, I begin the trek home. I take the way through the woods, because no one works today, and all the machine would be shut down. I could use a bit of exercise, anyway. Climbing a tree, I shoot off, bouncing from one branch to another, almost flying through the forest at high speeds. When combining my skills of climbing and running among the treetops, the nickname 'Birdy' fits perfectly. A wide grin never leaves my face, as the forest is my favorite place to be. The colors flash around me, and too soon, I find myself on the other side of the wood, in my own yard.

Upon entrance to the house, I find a mess. I shake my head with a little smile. What else should I expect from a house full of boys? I put a few things away, places the rolls on the end table, and begin to search for one of my five brothers. However, just my father appears to be home.

"Hey dad, where's everyone?" I inquire, sitting beside him in the kitchen. He smiles down at me, his only daughter.

"Cartern told me they'd be out doing boy things. They promised not to get their clothes dirty and to be at the plaza before the ceremony starts." The man is big, probably two hundred thirty pounds and six foot. Like all of his children, he has unruly black hair and pale-ish skin. However, he has hazel eyes, like the rest of the boys. I alone inherited her mother's green irises.

"All of them?"

"All of them. I trust them. Sort of." We share a smile. The Reynolds family is a large one. Cartern, Curlef, Ceen, Crash, and Colt are all eleven and younger, but older than seven. Boys being boys, they are wild and hyper, but can be calmed with music.

"Well, I hope they keep to their word, or you and I will be in a world of trouble." I smile at my father, and we make small talk for a while. Eventually, though, I go to take a cold shower- we don't have running hot water and I've taken too much time to heat some over the stove- and puts on the purple dress and black leggings I was told to wear. Instead of waiting for my curls to dry, I just tie it back into it's original ponytail, and put my white sneakers back on. Then I go with my father to the square.

After a prick of blood and a moment of confusion on where the other sixteen year old girl are, I find myself in my section, scanning the plaza for others I know should be here by now. There's Mekina, trying to looks strong in her pretty pink dress, and Hanniad is talking with Braisdon over the rope of her corral. Cartern and Crash, the twins of the family, are twisting through the crowd towards father, who has met up with Ceen already. Lighi stands with her family, as does Rosie and Amber, though the latter keeps darting her young eyes toward her sister. Curlef is bothering a boy I don't know in the fourteen section. Before I can wonder where my last brother is, I turn my head and find him at the edge of my section, trying to get my attention. I make my way over.

"Birdy, hey," Colt huffs as I stand beside him. "Thought you'd never see me."

"Hi, buddy. Why aren't you with dad?"

"Just thought I'd wish you luck. And," he adopts a ridiculous accent, "may the odds be ever in your favor!" He snickers, and we hug, before Colt works his way over to our brothers.

Mendall Hulperch is suddenly demanding the attention of District 7, and we give it to him, the plaza going nearly silent. He give a welcoming speech, one that I mostly ignore. It's the same every year, and even though the video is different, I am pretty sure it's just reiterating what he's just said. They introduce Johanna Mason, a strong woman with dark hair and a superior look about her, and Blight a taller man who seems fairly quiet. The two are the most recent victors of our district, and will mentor our tributes this year. Of course, it's not like we've never seen these people, most of us have met them in person, but Mendall still feels the need to remind us who they are.

"Now, time to pick the victors. Let's start with the ladies, hmm?" His bright aqua afro jiggles as he walks slowly over to glass bowl, full of little slips of paper, one of them about to be matched to a Games tribute. I don't like to be morbid, but this person will probably… die.

Today has been a happy day, mostly because since I woke up, I've been repressing what today actually means. Twenty four children are being sent to their death today. Two of them will be from my district, people I know, people I live with and talk to all the time. Today should be a horrible, mourning day. What is Mekina really does get pulled? Or Hannaid?

Mendall has a piece of paper between his thin fingers now. He reads it carefully, and then stares out at us. Irritation and fear is welling up in me. What in the world is he waiting for?"

"Cathrine Reynolds."

'Thank god,' I think, relishing in the fact that this is not my friend or the little girl who I adore. It takes me a moment to realize that no one is moving, no one is going to claim the paper. Why? Then it hits me. Why everything is so silent. No one has said that name in so long, I hadn't even recognized it…

Cathrine is my name. I'm Cathrine Reynolds, and I'm the female tribute for District 7.

A/N; … Don't kill me. I know, I haven't updated anything in a million years, and now I'm starting something new. You have permission to kill me. But then you'll never know what happens in this story, which is half written! That's more than usual… Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little beginning and review to make me better.

Pronunciations of names:

Birdy- Burr-dee.

Mekina- Meh-kee-na.

Rosie- Rose-ee.

Amber- Ahh-mm-burr.

Lighi- Lee-hee.

Mendall Hulperch- Men-dell Hall-purr-ch.

Braisdon- Bruh-ace-done.

Hanniad- Hand-aide.

Cartern- Car-teern.

Curlef- Curr-leaf.

Ceen- Keen.

Crash- Like it sounds, I guess.

Colt- Kolt.

Cathrine- Cath-reen.

Yeah, there yeah go.


	2. Chapter 2

Time flies by, I can't even recall getting pulled onto the stage, or the speeches given after the boy is called. It can't be someone I know, because I would've woken me from my stupor at the familiar name. When I do come up from my own little world, I find myself in a little room, where people are bustling around, getting things ready for departure, I suppose. I realize this is my greeting room, where all my loved ones are to say good bye and good luck.

So where is everyone?

Eventually, someone comes in and pulls me onto the train that'll take me to the capitol. I don't question it; what choice do I have, really? I'm still in shock that no one wanted to wish me well in my Games.

I'm plopped down in a lush seat, surrounded by pretty, nice, capitol things. As the TV plays something behind me, I play with the little round, glass thing infront of me, trying to block out what has happened today. I could freak out and cry later, when no one was around and I could be alone. But for now, better to just pretend I'm strong and ready.

A door opens; in walks Mendall, Johanna, and Blight. Johanna doesn't look at me; I've known her all my life, seeing as was a close friend of my mother. She heads straight over to the boy tribute, a young looking boy with light hair and little eyes, and they leave together in whispers. Mendall looks from the now shut door, back to me, and shrugs. He heads over a mirror and begins to primp his afro. We are headed to the capitol, I'm reminded.

"So, hi." Blight stands beside me, looking down, appraising my lithe frame. "Cathrine? Have we met before?"

I shake my head. "You called my Cathrine. Everyone knows me as Birdy."

"Birdy?" A low, booming laugh. "Alright, Birdy it is. So, start spouting facts, will yeah? I can't help if I don't know what I've got."

I suppress a groan; do we have to start now? I hide this with a small smile towards the big man. "I do paperwork at the mill." Blight shakes his head at this. "I'm lightweight, I can hide easily, I'm a good climber, and I'm good in the trees. I'm not a very good runner, and I've never even held anything more lethal than a kitchen knife."

Blight is quiet. He looks me over again, before nodding. "Watch these sorting reruns. Get to know your enemy." And he leaves me alone, only God knows where Mendall had wandered off to. Instead of breaking down, like I desperately want to, I decide to do as I'm told. District 3 is on the screen. Both it and four have their usual strong, evil-looking players. Five and six are only slight intimidating. At seven, I look away, not wanting to see my own reaping, lest I have a heart attack. Mendall wouldn't care for that. Eight and nine don't even worry me, ten and eleven do. Twelve has a volunteer, which worries me more than anything else so far. Then I watch the opening again to see one and two.

And then I start to shiver. I know that District 1 and 2 have the toughest players, but seeing them as your opponent rather than the bad guys is really, really terrifying. They all look happy to volunteer, ready to tear me apart limb from limb. I immediately decide to stay far, far away from these people.

By the time I finish my observation, the train had stopped. Blight comes through the door, and nods, pulling me along into some building. People scream all around me, and I have the good sense to give them a weak smile. I realize now that it's night, and I wonder if the other tributes are all here yet.

I don't take in anything as we head to our room. I focus on putting one foot before the other, and not tripping over anything. No one says anything once we get to the seventh floor, Blight taking my hand and leading me to a room I presume is mine. He leaves me. I stand in the middle, not caring about the amazing projections around me, or the extremely awesome closet to my right. I just sit on the bed and let myself go.

I cry for my family and friends, the relief that I am here and not them. I cry for the fact that none of those I try my hardest to protect came to tell me good bye. I cry for the poor young boy who is my teammate, who will probably die. I cry for myself, because I know I'm going to die. There's no denying that one. I cry and cry and cry, until I'm asleep and crying in my dreams.

-X-

I am woken up, bathed, and moved in a blur. Before I know it, I'm in a strange room and people are plucking at my body and I'm ignoring the pain, because I've pretty much cried myself out. I don't know how long I'm laying on that table with the people doing weird things to me, but eventually they leave and I'm left to breath freely. For a moment.

"Another small one!" A high voice shrieks, and I have to stop myself from covering my ears. A blonde woman with green skin is glaring at me. I assume this is my stylist. She tsks, pulling me off the table and onto my feet, examining me. "I usually get at least one big one! How can I justify dressing two pipsqueaks as strong trees?" She paces, looks at me, and continues grumbling. Then she leaves, with nothing else said.

"Crazy," I mumble, momentarily distracted from my despair. I'm left alone for a while, twiddling my thumbs, before the three people from before are back, and they're dressing me. Considering two are men, I shut away my embarrassment and just grin and bear the pulling at my hair and the placement of fabric on my body. It takes me a minute to realize this isn't a tree costume, but a gray and white fabric, flowy and dancing on me. I don't know what this is supposed to be, but I'm not a damn tree, so it works for me.

Once the minions are done, they offer me a mirror. I refuse, and they seem upset, but they lead me out to a big room full of people and chariots anyway. I see the boy- I found out the morning his name is Renny- and I head his way. He is a tree. Why am I not a tree?

Johanna grins. She slaps the stylist on the back. "That's great. The wind and the tree. Perfect."

"Well, what else was I supposed to do? You can't make a four-foot-ten, ninety pound girl into a tree! She'd just look silly." She walks away, and Renny snorts.

"And she justifies making me a tree? I'm not much bigger than you!" His voice is high pitched and pubescent. He really couldn't be older than fourteen. That worries me almost as much as District 1 and 2.

Then we're ushered onto the wooden cart, and the tributes are being rolled out to the screaming public. The proud, strong Districts before us all get raucous applause. District 2, unsurprisingly, seems to be the favorite this year. Them we begin to roll.

"Ooh, look, here comes the tributes from seven!" The announcer shouts, and the crowd claps politely. No one remembers seven unless they're from seven. "There's Renny Justice, he's thirteen. I hear he's decent with a club. Oh, and Cathrine Reynolds. Such a small girl! One wonders how long she'll last."

'Stupid capitols..' I think, somehow managing to keep a smile and wave.

Twelve causes an uproar. They're on fire, what else would you expect? The crowd freak out completely, and most of the tributes look angry. No doubt they've just stolen all the sponsors. I can't find it in myself to be angry; they look too cool to hate. I have to remember to stay away from them too, though, because they definitely would crush me flat.

The night passes quickly. I don't pay attention to much other than the flaming teens from twelve, and when they are put out, I just drift. Nothing until training is that important, anyway. Blight begins to lead me out of the room. I wish I'd broken the daze earlier, as I run smack into a wall. I blink, look up, and see a handsome face snarling down at me. Okay, not a wall.

"Watch where you're going, meat." The boy from one looks angry, really angry, so I just nod. Not fearfully, not pride fully, just passive enough to where he'll hopefully forget me. Thankfully, he seems to. He turns away, going back to his pretty partner, but as I head out, I feel eyes boring into my back. I don't look.

I pull the elaborate… whatever the hell the did to my hair, out. The night ends with more crying and worries.

-X-

Showered, dressed, and all cried out, I head down to training with Blight. Johanna and Renny will be down after us. Blight squeezes my shoulder lightly.

"Look, you're little. And, well, you didn't look too good at your reaping. You're probably going to targeted for bullying. Ignore the others, focus on teaching yourself something. Something you can lift and kill with, preferably. Don't ignore survival stations, but I think at this point you need some weapon training. Try a bow or some knives." I nod along, and Blight lets go of me as the elevator doors open, and I walk into the training room alone.

I'm finally shaking off the shock of being recruited, I somewhat know what I'm doing as I step into the big, gymnasium like room. A swimming pool is on my left, a track on my right. Different weapon stations are spread out everywhere, and the few survival stations are in the back. Most of the tributes are here, checking out the equipment or the competition. Renny steps in, along with the scary guys from twelve, and we get some speech I don't listen too. Then we're set free. Renny goes straight to the track, and I wander over to the knives.

Bad idea, it seems. All of the high-ranking tributes are in this area. I don't know what else to do, so I pick up a small knife and examine it, wondering what exactly I need to learn to do. Throw it? Fight with it? I have no idea. I toss it from one hand to the other to test the weight, but instead of catching the handle, I get the sharp side. My left hand starts gushing blood from a small wound and I drop the offending piece of metal with distaste. "Well, that didn't work."

Laughter all around me. A lithe, but toned girl steps in front of me to get the knife. She shows it to me, and still chuckling, plants it in the center of a target one hundred meters away. She shows me a toothy, mocking grin.

Deciding to take the high road, I smile back at the now thoroughly confused girl. "Nice shot. Two, right? You're good at this. Me?" I hold up my hand. "Not so much."

The boy from one steps next to the girl. "You're the idiot who ran into me yesterday."

"Yep. I do that sometimes. Sorry." I pull an elastic I'd found in that closet in my room off my wrist and throw my hair into a bun. "So, uh, I'm going to practice…"

"You're not going to get your hand fixed up, meat?" The boy from one comments, a sneer on his face.

I shrug. "It's not bad, but if it doesn't stop bleeding in a few minutes I'll worry. But for now, I need every minute of training I can get!" I let out a little laugh, before picking up a lighter-looking dagger. The two stare. "Uh, you mind?"

"Birdy!" A shout comes from directly behind me, causing me to yelp and let the knife drop, scratching my leg in the process. I turn to find Renny there, grinning guiltily. "Sorry. But shouldn't you go run the track a little? Birds need to fly!" He grabs my hand and drags me away.

"Thank you. So much. You can kill me if you want. God, that was horrible."

Renny laughes. "Yeah, can't let my only ally get eaten before the Games start. Come on, try the bow."

The time before lunch is spent failing at using a bow and arrows. My arms are just too short. At lunch, Renny and I sit with the tributes from eight, who he's befriended and they don't seem eager to kill us, so I'm fine with it. He's got them calling me Birdy already, which is good, because I'm still not really responding to Cathrine. I feel better than I have in days, sitting and joking with these other murderers-in-training.

Once we're sent back into the training room, I go back to the knives. This seems to be my only hope, and most of the mean kids have gone off to do other things, leaving only the blonde from two. He doesn't even notice me as I step up, pick a weapon, and throw. It doesn't even make it to the target. Three more attempts and I get the same result. Huffing, I almost don't notice the same burning gaze on my back as last night. Almost. This time, I turn to see the offender, and I'm shocked to see the boy from two watching me. He looks around, as do I, to find no one is here. Even the people observing from the rooms above are missing. Where in the hell did everyone go?

"You're holding those wrong," he tells me in a low, gruff voice. He's tall, muscular, and mean looking. Blonde hair and tan-ish skin, blue grey eyes, he would be very attractive in another setting. He's suddenly beside me, picking up my reluctant choice of weapon and holding it in his hand. "It's all in the grip." He demonstrates.

I'm quiet for a moment. "Why would you tell me that?"

He's quiet for a moment. "Because caging a little bird is no fun unless it puts up a fight."

He walks away, everyone files back into the room, and I am left, wondering what the hell had just happened. I knew one thing; the boy from two was out for my head, and I needed to figure out what I was doing soon.


End file.
